


Infinite Adoration

by ScentedBooks



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Guardian Angels, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff and Angst, He does die first though, Hurt/Comfort, I actually had a beta, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, M/M, Temporary Character Death, it's fine, love that for me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-02-02
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:34:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22517095
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScentedBooks/pseuds/ScentedBooks
Summary: Guardian angel Jaskier is assigned to Witcher Geralt of Rivia as his newest assignment.Jaskier is protective and worried for his safety, and can't interfere unless Geralt is in grave danger. It's unfortunate that things play out the way that they do, but it doesn't mean it's not a happy ending.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 59
Kudos: 986





	Infinite Adoration

**Author's Note:**

> Recommended Songs :)
> 
> Falling - Harry Styles  
> Laughter Lines - Bastille  
> Light - Sleeping at Last  
> Infinity - Jaymes Young 
> 
> A link for the discord server, where this idea began  
> https://discord.gg/YNf6chy  
> 
> 
> This probably one of the saddest fics with a happy ending that I've ever written and I hope that you enjoy. 
> 
> The wonderful @sorawings betaed this work and did a wonderful job <3

Julian Alfred Pankratz was a nobleman. Raised with grace and an identity that scorched history with a beautiful face, and an even more beautiful personality. He was a rarity in his family, a family of people who wanted money. 

All he wished for in his life -was love. 

Growing up he realized that his parents didn’t marry for love, their arranged marriage was for the sake of joining two families together with little regard to their wants. Everything in Julian’s life was Money and Status 

In school he learned, as literacy was beaten into him with a cane, there was no love inside of his home or outside of its walls. 

When he turned 19, he discovered his love for poetry, and discovered how it felt to love another person. To love someone for who they were and not the family that guarded them. 

She was marvelous. 

She made his heart beat out of his chest, gave him flutters in his stomach. Her eyes reminded him of the forests that surrounded his parent’s estate. Green with a slight darkness in them, he felt as though he would get lost in her eyes one day. 

She looked at him for who he was, not for his noble birth.

Or he thought she did. 

They married two years after their meeting in the city - a day that he will never forget. They had bumped into one another, he’d knocked her to the ground, bread flew from her dainty hands and he’d looked into her green eyes, ignoring the rags of her clothes, and knew she was the one. 

How he still wished that day had never happened. 

His yearning for love and the softness in her gaze pulled him in from the start, but she had only been looking in distaste at the cleanliness of his clothes, and, as time passed, she used him for his money, convinced his parents she was worthy, 

Only to betray him in the end. 

Her ruse that she loved him, the betrayal that laid in her soft smile. 

Eventually a smile that cost him his life. 

\--

They had been married for less than two years. Two years of what Julian saw as perfection. She had been perfect for noble life. Her manners towards his parents were impeccable.

He hadn’t suspected a thing. 

Her easy integration into his lifestyle was questioned by his father. Julian had dismissed the man’s claims as false. 

She went to parties with him, arranged their life so that they were in a real home - nothing like the one he grew up in. 

As they readied for bed on their last night together, the love of his life came up behind him. Her presence comforted him. She pressed herself up against his back, her head resting against the top of his spine into the tip of his neck. 

His last words to her would haunt him for the rest of his immortal life, 

“I am so glad I’ve found you.”

Hers even more so, 

“You _will_ change my life Julian.” 

Not you _have_ , but you _will_.

The pain he felt after she uttered those words to him is ingrained into his memory, the flashes of blood pouring from his throat as well as the cold feeling of the knife slicing into the skin still plagues his dreams. 

She had betrayed him. Her wrath told him of her false beauty and, 

After the pain subsided he couldn’t focus on trying to breathe any longer. The deep red blood pouring from his mouth, clogging his throat’s opening, he felt his vision tunneling and all he saw after that was black.

His body hit the floor with a dull thud.

And Julian Alfred Pankratz lost his fairytale ending.

\--

Time never stops for just anyone, and definitely not for someone dying. 

He watched as she took his life away. His family mourned him, she got his money, his life and he wished that he wouldn’t have been so foolish to trust her.

To love her. 

He watched her live her life and get everything she wanted. Destiny had chosen to document her betrayal for him. Give him a front row seat of everything he’d lost.

All he felt for a while was pain and sadness, but he saw the world change and shift around him. His family moved on, they lived and died without him.

He was nothing but a lost memory. 

But that was years ago. 

And time waits for no one. 

-

Now Julian has been a guardian angel for some years now. He still doesn't know what about his life and consequent death elected him this title but ever since he came back and got assigned his job and his sword, he just does his best.

He thought to himself that fate worked in wondrous ways. That this was his gift from destiny since his life was taken from him so violently.

He spoke to the skies sometimes. His curiosity following him into this new immortal life. He could feel it in his soul that they’d never give him a proper reply to his gift. Yelling into the endless sea of color as the days went by. 

But,

He only knew small portions of information and that was given to him years ago. 

When he awoke, face down on the ground he still seemed to look the same as he always had. But, when he finally got a proper look at himself, he noticed larger changes.  
First, he was shirtless. He had a thin pair of pants on, which he was thankful for. 

He was tattooed with a myriad of flowers, ranging from dandelions to sunflowers, with even an occasional lavender, depending on the season as he would soon realize as the days went by. They spread over the expanse of his arms and his front(?). On the other side, an expanse of constellations, stars he didn’t know about shaping themselves into pictures. 

He’d decided to change him name to Jaskier that day, the dandelions shaping his arm giving him a spark of inspiration. A beautiful flower intended as a gift given a loved one. It is a flower, yes, but one that means happiness and total faithfulness. His newfound guardianship meant that he would be devoted.

Julian, on the other hand, was dead. And _Jaskier_ , well, he couldn’t be happier.

He grabbed at the expanse of his throat out of habit. Clutching at it in fear of coming pain in the middle of the forest trees. Ruminating for a moment in the cold feeling of a blade dragging across his now healed throat.

There was nothing obvious that he could feel as panic formed in his dampened throat. Each tattooed hand lowered to find the necklace dangling from his throat. 

The only thing on the chain was a disc. As he gazed closer, the shining shape of the sun seemed to look at back at him, and he dragged his hand down the front of the medallion.It made a noise and began to shine brighter, 

And with a _pop!,_ He disappeared.  
It was easy to discover that he was no longer human. 

As the years went by, Jaskier discovered new things about himself and who he had become. 

He was gifted with abilities that surprised him. When he walked into an inn for the first time, he realized that no one could see him anymore. He'd accidentally scared a poor old woman in the back of the inn when he reappeared to the mortal eye.

The medallion, as he correctly assumed, held power within its small shape. It gave him the ability to disappear and reappear at will. To move locations at an alarming speed that caused him to get sick with pain in his stomach the first few times he’d tried it. 

He discovered, as he tried to incorporate himself back into normal human life, things had changed. Suddenly magic and monsters were ravenous and feared throughout the kingdoms. 

Not long after, he discovered that his newfound gift came with proper magic. His lute, which was laid into the ground next to him when he awoke. Could shift and be cast alight, into a fierce sword made of flames. 

It scared him for a long time. 

Though, after realizing that fate had gifted him a weapon, as well as magic to protect himself, coming from the inside of his soul, and filtering into the casing of his medallion. Using his lute as musical and magical to fend off people who could see him – when he trusted them enough to show himself that is.

Could this be his gift for losing his life unfairly? Magic and power for eternity?

One of these moments of integrating himself with humanity, he enrolled at Oxenfurt Academy, where he was given a degree in between his guardian assignments, as the child he was observing didn’t need as much attention, being locked up like he was. All seven liberal arts were gifted to him in the four years he spent his time learning. 

But time waits for no one. 

After only a year teaching at Oxenfurt, his assignment became a matter of importance once more and he took his leave. In the interest of his travels, at least, that’s what he told his companions. 

\--

The scroll clutched in his fingertips always had a name.

The names always changed so rapidly in his opinion. Years would go by, he would observe the person under his watch, they were all relatively easy, normal people. 

He’d taken enough precaution for himself to stay out of the way, letting them live their lives. 

But this one, this person wasn’t just anyone. 

He chastised himself for not paying closer attention until the name on his scroll shifted and rewrote itself, not dead - _changed_. 

Changed to Geralt of Rivia.

A man who would become a _Witcher_. 

Needless to say, this person, this _mutant_ , got Jaskier’s attention. 

\--

When Geralt of Rivia was born, a child of surprise no less, Jaskier appeared to his side curious to see the young thing that would be inked on his scroll one day. He looked down at the surprise child and clutched his chest as the small grey orbs contacted his own blue ones. 

This child was nowhere near normal. 

He followed the child, and the child’s parents to Kaer Morhen where his fate was sealed. A snap went into place as the destiny to become a Witcher was determined. He felt the ties to this boy’s future.

His scroll kept him up to date on his assignment, even though Jaskier was not allowed to visit him physically until the scroll specified. 

The child grew quickly over time. Going through grueling tests that made Jaskier feel the need to hover near him just in case. 

As he grew into older, into the shape of the Witcher he could become one day, Jaskier realized that he will be needed. 

Trials became more intense and Jaskier noticed as the name in his scroll darkened into a deep black color of ink, that his assignment day is drawing closer. The snippets into the life he would be protecting one day becoming clearer. 

The trial of the Forest Eyes was the first trial that Jaskier assisted on indirectly. Though against the rules of his guardianship, Geralt was left tied in the woods blindfolded, and Jaskier stood from a distance and watched helplessly for a few hours before directing an elf towards Geralt. The elf by the name of Aideen, freed Geralt. So, he passed the trial. 

When Geralt left Kaer Morhen, Jaskier was only allowed to keep tabs on Geralt. Use the man’s feelings to determine whether he would be okay. 

His assistance was not yet needed. Which worried Jaskier greatly.

Jaskier began to sing for taverns in areas that Geralt would be near for even a moment. Losing himself in brothels, becoming to look more human each day.

Wearing their clothes, covering himself in their jewelry. 

\--

Over the years Jaskier has observed Geralt closely, even though he’s not permitted to interfere until the man is an adult, but Jaskier’s always had a curious nature, even back when he was human.

Getting little notes and warnings that Geralt has been injured always brings his heart to a stutter. He doesn’t want this man to die before he actually officially gets assigned.

It was becoming common to see him alone all the time. Jaskier watched Geralt grow up, only to see that he would continue to have no one around him. The loneliness that he knows the man feels is one of the things that binds them together. A relationship with being alone. 

Jaskier uses his loneliness to create a new version of himself. A human version that is soft and approachable. A bard that sings silly songs to drunk patrons in a tavern, revealing himself to people who will not remember he was even there the next day. 

Geralt though, people recognize him. In the time of their separation, the man made a name for himself. The ‘Butcher of Blaviken.’ What a pity. He’s easy to see in public spaces, white hair and golden piercing eyes, and it never ceases to surprise Jaskier every time he pops up in a different part of the world to see a healing Geralt sitting on the ground, trying not to show signs of pain even when no one can see him.

It made Jaskier’s soul hurt.

\--

Today, the crowd Jaskier is playing for aren’t really paying him much attention. These people who reside in Posada are a boring sort. He’s used to people ignoring his entire existence but those who are paying attention clearly aren’t listening to the sound of his voice. 

There’s a man at the bar. Jaskier can physically feel the man’s gaze watching him move around the tavern. His eyes pierce the golden collar sitting comfortably on the bard’s neck, hiding the main portion of his medallions chain, where the rest is sitting below his undershirt, where it would stay for the remainder of his time here. 

He ignores the unsettling stares from the man sitting at the bar to the best of his ability. Then the door to the tavern opens and everything becomes quiet, Jaskier halts his strumming as a hulking figure shoves through the door.

Even from across the entirety of the building, Jaskier would recognize that man anywhere. 

He picks up the bread off the floor piece by piece and shoves them into his pants, never removing his bright blue eyes from the man who is now sitting alone in the corner, faced towards him but keeping his head down. 

The patrons do not seem to care that a _Witcher_ has just walked in, and Jaskier cannot help the slight surprise that overcomes his face as he continues to stare. 

He makes the decision to walk closer, not looking away from the man, his eyes ignoring everyone around him. Zeroing in on the Witcher. Aware of his medallion vibrating on his chest in warning against his blatant disobedience by getting this close to a possible threat in this form, visible as any human would be. 

He ignores it in favor of getting closer, curious to see the Witcher up close after all this time.

The medallion stops vibrating as if it realizes the angel wearing it doesn’t care about its warning. It gives one last small tremor before settling silently. 

As the medallion stops, he is standing in front of Geralt of Rivia’s table. Jaskier’s eyes curiously take in his soon assignment. The burly man has more scars than the last time he saw him, in fact he now has a nasty scar down his face, healed from his mutations but still visible to the angel. His hair was disgusting, and Jaskier couldn’t help but scrunch his nose in an effort not to offend the man by opening his mouth to comment on it. 

Instead he says, “I love the way you just sit in the corner and brood.”

But those eyes, they didn’t even look at him. Just states in a gruff voice that makes his heart stutter in his chest, 

“I’m here to drink alone.”

Jaskier tries not to roll his eyes and puts an easy smile on his face. He thinks about his music, the small song he’d just played. How he’d received bread he probably won’t eat in the coming days and moved forward, 

“Good…okay” he begins, trying to find the right words, “you know, no one else hesitated to comment on my performance, except…” and moved a bit closer, “for you. C’mon. You don’t want to keep a man with... bread in his pants waiting do you?”

He winced a bit, that definitely wasn’t a normal thing to say to another person, let alone a Witcher. He put a smile back on his face quickly and sat down, 

“Look at you.” He gestured with a piece of bread, “golden eyes, white hair, two massive swords…” 

Geralt stood up abruptly and began to walk away, 

“I know who you are…” Jaskier stated a bit quieter to not bring attention to them as he moved along the space of the bar close behind his assignment, “Geralt of Rivia.”

The Witcher kept walking away from the angel as he started towards the back exit, but Jaskier was always close behind, and got close to his ear, 

“A Witcher.”

\--  
\--

And the angel follows him.

Geralt endures Jaskier’s presence in the coming days, his medallion burns against his chest and he pulls his scroll out, 

Dark Black ink stares back at him.

Jaskier is officially Geralt of Rivia’s guardian angel. 

They spent years together and Jaskier didn’t need to step in one time. 

Things came close, they always did when the Witcher hit the ground too hard and Jaskier heard the breath push out of his lungs, or when a monster managed to slice him so deep that Jaskier had to hold himself back, because the wound wasn’t, isn’t fatal. He’s not allowed to step in unless it’s going to outright kill Geralt.

One evening, they’re staying at an inn and Geralt’s in a good mood. They’ve been together a while as companions, sometimes Jaskier would even call them friends, and now Geralt doesn’t ‘hm’ in disagreement, the tone of his voice has changed and sometimes he gets the hint of a smile. 

\--

Then they met Yennefer. 

And Yennefer _left_.

They sat there staring at the mountains in silence, not a word from either of them as the sun set, neither of them moving from the rock. 

Jaskier looked over to Geralt’s tense expression. He observed the Witcher’s sharp face and strong jawline. The golden eyes that he’s memorized the shape of after all these years. The specks of soft yellow within a vibrant glowing gold. The depth of them when they turn a fierce and violent black. 

He thinks about Geralt’s soul. The still sure purity of it even through the darkness threaded around it. His small mannerisms that let Jaskier know he cares, even if he can’t find the words.  
His heart beats in his chest and his mood becomes slightly saddened, a deep ache appears, and the sun sets over the horizon. 

Geralt stands up from the rock and murmurs that he’s going to settle Roach for the night and Jaskier lets him wander. 

Once Geralts out of sight, Jaskier points his face up at the stars that are becoming visible in the new night sky. His heart thuds against his chest. Has hasn’t truly felt like this in a long time, not since before, and realizing it now causes stray tears to run down his face as he slides from the rock and his knees hit the hard-packed dirt on the ground. 

His face is still directed towards the sky, as he stares towards the emptiness above, at whoever gave him this gift of immortality, he whispers brokenly, 

“I think I’m falling in love.”

\--  
\--

Geralt is covered in drowners when Jaskier appears in the clearing, a panicked expression on his face. The only thing Jaskier hears is the slowed down heartbeat that he has long since memorized. 

He can smell the blood in the area as the screams of the drowners phase in and out of his ears. He zeros in on Geralt and for just a moment his eyes find Geralts underneath the mass of the beasts and he sends him a furious look with widened horrified eyes that overcomes his pain and Jaskier, 

Jaskier makes a decision. 

He doesn’t even care that Geralt can see everything he hides underneath his clothing.

His heartbeat is too slow, the medallion on his bare chest is vibrating, he’s half-dressed because Geralt had instructed him to stay at the inn where it was safe, but then Jaskier felt Geralt go down. He had been getting ready for his bath. He could bathe without worrying about questions pertaining to his tattoos when Geralt was out on a job or not in the room. 

When he felt it, he disappeared and reappeared in a forest with a small body of water to find Geralt was buried underneath a mountain of those fucking beasts, and if he doesn’t act now Geralt is going to die, 

And, 

He grabs his medallion and sheer power hits the ground and spreads over the entirety of forest that he can see. And he lifts his hand and faces his palm towards the mass of the things - the monsters - hurting, killing his best friend, the love of his stupid immortal life, 

And squeezes his hand into a fist. 

He swung his arm and the biggest drowner went flying into the nearest tree with an ear splitting crash, the towering trunk shattered into nothing but firewood now. 

Once the tree falls, the drowners finally notice his presence in the clearing. He sends their snarling faces a Cheshire grin and lifts his fist in the air again. But this time, this time as his fist rises all the drowners rise with it. 

They growl and shriek but keep ascending off the ground. As Jaskier’s fist clenches tighter, they all begin to splutter and their shrieking starts to sound like choking, a nasty gravelly noise that hurts his ears. But Jaskier doesn’t let go.

He can feel Geralt's dazed black eyes staring at him as the weight of the monsters leaves his body. 

He lifts his other hand and keeps his palm open as magic explodes through the forest in a wave. Energy forces itself past the water and connects with the drowners that are suffocating in his hands.  
They begin to deteriorate into thin, dust-like particles, their bodies screaming until their mouths disappear into the void less energy of his magic. 

While the magic passes through and destroys them, Jaskier makes contact with Geralt's beating heartbeat and then looks into his eyes as they begin to fade back into their beautiful, natural golden. Still hazy with pain, Jaskier’s magic filters over Geralt’s body and begins to heal his wounds. Saving him so he won’t bleed out on the ground, but also keeping him safe from the violent magic of Jaskier’s rage that is covering the area. 

The pulse fades and his medallion goes back down to lie safely on his chest. 

He breathes roughly for a moment, and Geralt falls to the ground unconscious. 

Jaskier rushes to his limp form and as soon as his hand makes contact with the unconscious man’s heaving chest, they both are taken away from the clearing and back at the room at the inn they had rented for the night. 

With more hassle than Jaskier would like to admit, he heaves Geralt onto the bed, staggering a bit as his magic recharges itself. 

He runs his hands calmly over Geralt and the man twitches in his sleep as the soft part of the angel’s magic falls in waves over the man’s form. He raises his hand and with his magic a washcloth from Jaskier’s now cold bath shoots into his hands, splashing a bit of water onto Geralt. 

Jaskier lets his right hand roam over Geralt's wounds. He takes his other hand with the rag and softly begins to wipe the Witcher’s face, trying not to disturb his sleeping form.  
After long moments of silence, Geralt’s wounds are closing and knitting themselves back together and the blood from his face is now coated on the damp rag. Only then do the golden eyes of the Witcher flutter open silently. 

The man just observes Jaskier as Jaskier heals him. Surprisingly, Geralt doesn’t jerk out of his hold. His eyes are form slits in an anger that Jaskier can feel. 

Geralt’s breath stutters before he whispered, “What are you?”

“Nothing bad.” Jaskier whispers back, not able to look him in his eyes. He knows he’d find betrayal there. 

They are surrounded by silence once more. The only thing filtering through the room is the occasional grunt that Geralt lets out as he watches the wounds on his abdomen heal under Jaskier’s soft, glowing hands. 

After Jaskier finishes healing Geralt, the silence doesn’t let up. He busies himself before sitting back down where Geralt had sit himself up against the post on the head of the two-person bed.  
Crossed legged, and still unfortunately shirtless, Jaskier takes a deep breath and wraps his fist around his medallion before showing it to Geralt, 

“I’m immortal.” 

The angel dares a look into Geralt’s eyes and sees surprise. He continues, 

“I wasn’t always immortal; I just woke up that way. I died years ago, but destiny, fate, the gods, whatever you want to call it gave me a second life. A second life where I get to protect other people. Keep them safe.”

When Geralt doesn’t say anything, he keeps going.

“The sun is an important symbol. It represents me as a person. A symbolic representation of life, power, and clarity. The sun represents observance or a cosmic eye.”

He lifts his hand and his scroll appears, rolled up in his palm. He tugs at the small string holding it together and slowly unrolls it to reveal the scroll’s black lettering. He turns it so Geralt can read it clearly. 

“I get an assignment, a person to watch over, someone to protect, make sure they’re safe until it is time for them to pass over. Right now, and probably for a long time, that person is you.”

They stare at one another in silence, Geralt's jaw is tense. Tense in a different way than it was on the mountain. There is a resentment covering his features as Jaskier tries to keep his heartbeat under control. 

Then Geralt finally speaks, 

“So, all this time, you were lying to me?” 

Jaskier’s eyes widen and he tries to stop his lip from quivering, 

“No! I’ve never lied to you, You’re my friend.”

Geralt just makes a noncommittal noise at Jaskier. He looks in Jaskier’s face and just says, 

“Get out.”

Jaskier’s heart drops into his stomach, “What?”

“I want you to leave. I’m no assignment.”

“You’re not an assignment to me! You haven’t been for a long time! We’re friends!”

“Jaskier!” Geralt snaps, “I said get out. Everything that’s been happening is your fault! Protecting me? From what? The djinn, the child surprise, all of it happened because of you!”

Tears well up in his eyes and Jaskier refuses to let them fall and stands up from the bed, summoning proper clothing and walking to the door, 

“Just know, Geralt of Rivia, that I will always be there for you, no matter who you blame. Destiny chooses your path. I will follow you - I have no choice - but you will not have to see me anymore.”

And with that, he shuts the door. 

\--  
\--

Jaskier watches from afar now, completely invisible to the mortal eye. Geralt continues to travel on Roach looking for Ciri. When the Witcher finds her, he sheds silent tears. 

He looks happy. 

Jaskier wishes with everything he has that he could’ve been there to meet her personally. Her presence will do good for the both of them. 

It gets easier to watch them over time. Geralt seems to be more careful than usual these days, like he’s consciously trying to not get hurt. 

Jaskier knows it’s because he doesn’t want to see the angel again. 

But as time goes on, things chang ever so slightly. 

While performing for a king in the north, Jaskier feels a pang in his chest. A deep hurt noise falls from his mouth before he can stop it. The court looks at Jaskier in confusion as he excuses himself from the room. 

His appears in a clearing and turns to see Geralt sitting against a tree, crying. 

Jaskier tries to mask his shock at seeing the Witcher cry. Nothing like this was ever supposed to happen. In all the years he’s known Geralt of Rivia, he has not shed one single tear. No sadness has ever been plastered his face. But now, the Witcher is sitting against a tree, crying and feeling a sadness so deep that Jaskier could feel his pain from halfway across the continent. 

Jaskier doesn’t know what to do. 

In all his years, he has never seen anything like this. Standing here watching Geralt cry causes a pain in his chest he can’t ignore. Tears begin to roll down the angel’s cheeks as Ciri enters the clearing. 

“Geralt?” she questions. 

The Witcher’s crying slows to a stop at the presence of his child surprise, and he looks into the distance to where Jaskier stands, unseen. The red tint of his golden eyes makes the angel’s knees weak from. 

“We need to find Jaskier.” Geralt states. 

A confused expression crosses Ciri’s face, “The bard?”

“The angel.”

Jaskier disappears. 

\--  
\--

He continues to visit often. Never getting too close, and certainly never revealing himself. He gets to see firsthand as Geralt grows in his absence. Geralt becomes more a man than a Witcher as he raises Ciri as his own. Her destiny to follow in his footsteps and become a Witcher doesn’t surprise Jaskier. Maybe in another life it would, but definitely not in this one. 

As she grows older, Geralt doesn’t cease his search for Jaskier, but Jaskier keeps ignoring his pleas. Neither of them are ready to be united. 

Unbeknownst to Geralt, Jaskier never leaves his side for too long. 

One day he opens his scroll to see Geralt’s name fading slightly and the pang in his chest returns. Every time a name on his scroll fades, it means that they are close to their fate. He looks towards the sky once again, feeling a broken sadness enter his soul. 

His assignment is coming to an end.

Geralt is going to die. 

Jaskier needs to talk to him before it happens. 

\--  
\--

Jaskier appears in front of Roach in broad daylight the next day. 

He startles the poor horse but thankfully she recognizes him and calms before she does something horrible like kick him in the face. He looks up at her and murmurs, 

“Hello, pretty girl.”

A small voice gasps behind Geralt's body as he and Jaskier make eye contact. Golden yellow looks down at bright blue in shock before the Witcher schools his face. 

Jaskier murmurs, not taking his eyes away from Geralt’s, “I heard that you’ve been looking for me.” He continues softly, “Here I am.”

“Hm.” 

Geralt just looks at Jaskier for a moment before carefully removing himself from Roach’s back, leaving Ciri alone on the saddle. He steps onto the ground and walks toward Jaskier with no expression on his face. When he reaches the angel, 

He hugs him tightly. 

Jaskier hugs him back with just as much fervor. There’s no noise in the clearing. After a silent moment, the angel feels Geralt inhale sharply into the side of his neck, a wetness forming around the base of his throat. Jaskier squeezes tighter. 

“I looked everywhere for you.” Geralt murmurs into his skin, his breathing slightly uneven. 

“You weren’t ready Geralt. And I wasn’t either.”

Geralt pulls back and grips Jaskier’s shoulders firmly. He looks Jaskier directly in the eyes, “I am… sorry.”

Jaskier lets out a breath he didn’t realize he had trapped between his ribs. Seeing Geralt, hearing him apologize, wasn’t something that Jaskier imagined would happen. 

But, he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

He sent the Witcher still grasping his shoulders a bright smile that personified the sun that rested in the depths of Jaskier’s soul, and through watery eyes he replied, 

“I forgive you, Geralt of Rivia.” 

His medallion vibrated under his shirt at that moment, a silent warning of what was to come. Keeping the large smile plastered on his face as they walk, he ignores it and plays a melody on the strings of his lute. 

\--

They arrive in Temeria, a northern kingdom, a couple of weeks later. King Foltest, the ruler of the area, is waiting for Jaskier’s arrival. He’s to sing for a party the king has organized. The angel decided to play for the court because he knows that Temeria is one of the richest kingdoms on the continent. It is even more enticing because there are women off the coast that are adepts of magic. Maybe he can find Yennefer and convince her to train Ciri before they move on.

Broken out of his thoughts, Jaskier hears Ciri laugh under her breath because Geralt grunts at Jaskier’s humming of the beginning of ‘Toss a Coin.’ Jaskier chuckles along with her.

Jaskier has come to know Ciri as a strong and wonderful young girl nearing her teenage years. Her natural fighting talent is terrifying, and she strongly reminds Jaskier of Geralt in some ways. Their only real difference is that Ciri allows herself to laugh freely. It’s bright and colorful; a loud thing that gives Jaskier a feeling of content happiness at finally getting the honor to know her better. 

Geralt, on the other hand, has come far. His grunts and other noises are sometimes secretly the smallest of chuckles. The first time Jaskier had heard more than a hard breath and a small smile he’d almost tripped over his own feet. 

When they enter the gates of Temeria, Jaskier’s medallion vibrates again, another warning. He scrunches his (his what? eyes? nose?) at the castle as he walks next to Roach. From atop of the horse, Geralt gives him a funny look, and tries not to jostle the sleeping Ciri in his arms. 

Jaskier turns his attention towards Geralt and shrugs, “It’s nothing.”

Arriving at the doors of the castle, the guards allow them all inside per the request of the king and they settle in after a welcome dinner. 

Ciri lays on Jaskier’s right, the farthest from the door, and faces away from them both in her sleep. Jaskier lays facing towards Geralt as the man is looks towards the ceiling with a tired expression on his features, exhausted from travelling. 

“What’s it like?” Geralt asks. 

Jaskier hmms questioningly in response.

“Being immortal.” Geralt clarifies. “Living forever. What’s it like?”

Jaskier sighs, “Terribly lonely, I’m afraid.” 

“Hm.”

“I was in love once, twice… Whether either of them truly loved me back at any point, I cannot say for sure. But…” Jaskier trailed off. 

“But?” Geralt stated in a gruff tone after a moment.

“In my life, my human soul wanted love, he wanted love so badly that he died ignoring signs of betrayal.” 

Geralt looks at him in question but Jaskier continues, not wanting to get specific as he drags the tips of his fingers over the front of his throat. 

“When I first became immortal, I mistakenly fell in love with an assignment. I didn’t understand what was happening in those first few years. An idiot mistake. Being a guardian doesn’t come with an instruction manual.” Jaskier laughs a bit, but it sounds more like an exhaled breath. “To me, this immortal version of myself… Love is eternal, and therefore never allowed to be mine.”  
Geralt’s eyes connect with his own, 

“All I wanted in my human life was love, and now.. now I get to live for eternity, but I’ll never get that love again because fate took it from me. I think it’s my punishment for being so stupid, for falling in love with people who I can never have.” He closes his eyes tightly not able to hold Geralt’s piercing gaze any longer, “That’s why everything is so lonely.”

The bed shifts beside him and he feels a hand run over his jaw and cup the side of his face. His eyes flutter open and he swallows quietly in surprise, 

“You don’t have to be lonely anymore.” Geralt whispers, now facing in his direction. 

Geralt's forehead comes closer and rests on his own softly, he exhales harshly in response, 

“Don’t do this.”

He feels Geralt’s forehead crinkle, “Why not? You don’t have to pretend with me, nor with the child. You don’t have to be lonely anymore.”

Jaskier feels his eyes well up with past heartbreak, “Because… I’m immortal.” The angel’s blue eyes shine brightly in the dimly lit room, challenging the gold looking back at him, “I told you, for me, love is eternal. That doesn’t change, even as mortal hearts are so different. Mortal hearts change, or, gods, they die. Their sound falters and stutters to a stop and then I would be left to pick up the pieces of myself when mine shatters.”

Geralt looks at him in silence, never breaking eye contact, “Tell me you don’t want this then.”

He squeezes his eyes shut, unable to meet the intensity of the man’s gaze. His eyelashes are wet with unshed tears, clenched so tightly that he feels a strain on the lids and lets out a quiet, barely audible whisper of, “I can’t.”

Geralt kisses him. 

\--  
\--

The next morning, Jaskier awakes with a violent shake in the center of his chest. He sits up with haste and looks around the room, only to find nothing out of the ordinary. 

Ciri is still asleep next to him, and from where he sits, Jaskier can hear Geralt in the next room preparing a bath. He sits cross legged quietly for a moment, confused at his medallion’s reaction. 

Then it hits him. 

He gets up quietly, calming his panicked heart, and gets dressed for his performance this evening. He faces towards his pack and summons his scroll again. 

Geralt’s name has faded into a soft grey. He presses his hand over his mouth to catch a silent sob, and strong arms fold around his torso slowly, as if to not startle him. 

“What’s the matter angel?” Geralt’s gruff morning voice asks softly. 

The scroll disappears from his hands. 

“Nothing,” he says, turning around and enveloping himself into Geralt’s arms fully. “Just be careful today. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Hm.” Geralt lets out curiously. 

“Promise me.” Jaskier whispers. 

Geralt’s faces turns soft, with a hard edge of recognition in his golden eyes, “I promise.”

\--  
\--

The banquet is a grand affair. 

The room is full of people. Men, women, and even a couple of children dressed in their best attire for tonight’s activities. From what Jaskier is aware of, this banquet is to celebrate the defeat of Nilfgaard. The victory gives them land and riches in mountains. It makes sense to Jaskier why the king would want to celebrate. 

He wears his best clothing and looks himself over in the mirror while waiting for Ciri to finish getting dressed so he can do her hair. 

He donned bright colors that accentuate(?) his eyes. A soft pink compliments the blue within his attire in a soft barely there color. He adorns himself with rings on his fingers, and a golden choker he favors sits firmly around his neck to hide the soft, barely there scar that lines his neck. Barely visible to the human eye, but he is aware of it. 

The door opens and Ciri is standing there quietly. Jaskier smiles at her and gestures with his hand for her to come sit. He braids her hair. 

“Beautiful.”

She beams at him and they head downstairs to where Geralt already waits for them both. 

He takes Ciri to where Geralt is standing to the side and then walks to the king, where the man sits in his seat and bows respectfully and begins to play a new melody on his lute and gets lost in the music.  
Jaskier is in his element here, strumming his fingers and gliding around the room with his feet light on the floor. His voice travels through the throne room with strong proud vocals. It hits the walls with hypnotic vibrations and the people around the room start clapping and smiling along with his energy. 

A few get up from their seats to dance with one another. He looks to Geralt and winks a bright blue eye at the man and gets a small smile and a head shake in return. Ciri is dancing along to the music by herself, not straying far from Geralt but separate enough so she can move freely. 

He sings a few more songs and is beginning to tire when the doors swing open with a bang! Bringing his singing to a stuttering and surprised halt. Jaskier’s eyes widen as the men in uniform carring swords begin to move forward with no hesitation. The nearest person to the soldiers, a man Jaskier doesn’t know, falls to the ground with a cry of agony as the sword slices nearly all the way through him.

People begin to panic around them. They run through the room as screams and the smell of undiluted fear spreads in all directions. Jaskier looks to Geralt who has unsheathed his sword. Jaskier stares frozen as the Witcher stabs through a man’s face and moves further into the room.

His medallion shakes and pounds against his chest as Geralt goes. His eyes wander in search of Ciri who fled when the doors opened. He finds her against the wall, cowering as death roars all around her.

He runs. 

He reaches the girl just as a soldier waving his sword around like a madman begins to run near her. 

The man yells and his sword is swings toward them in a blind fury. Jaskier throws his arms up to shield his face and waits for the blow to come. 

But it never does. 

His medallion screams silently on his chest as Geralt appears in front of them both. Shadows cloud his vision as horrific pain and agony fills his chest. His eyes widen in heart wrenching surprise at what Geralt’s done. 

Geralt falls to the ground in a heap, spluttering as blood pours from his mouth. 

Jaskier hears Ciri cry out behind him and he doesn’t think. He reaches his hand out and screams. 

Magic pours from his hand. Electric filled fire roars in his wake. The man's screams fill his senses as he burns. The fire rages and the electricity crackles in a mad storm that travels around the room.  
It kills every intruder as soon as it touches them without a care. They scream and they cry. He drops his hand after the screams die down, and crouches next to Geralt with tears running freely down his face. His medallion stutters against his chest, matching Geralt's weak heart, beat by beat. 

Jaskier tries to heal him but his magic is not quick enough to make up for the blood pouring from the man's stomach. Ciri is sobbing on the other side of Geralt now, having moved to get closer after Jaskier fell to his knees. He grabs the Witcher’s face in a tight hold. 

“Geralt!” he sobs, “Look at me Geralt!”

His chest hitches as the golden yellow eyes open to look into his red stained, tear filled ones, “C’mon dammit!” 

Geralt doesn’t say anything. He reaches up with a shaking, weak hand and grasps Jaskier’s from its hold on his face and reaches with the other hand to grab Ciri’s in comfort, silently pleading for her not to cry over him. 

He keeps a hold of Jaskier’s hand and opens his mouth to speak with a pained groan, “I love you to infinity.” 

That statement makes Jaskier cry harder and respond through his tears, “I love you for eternity.” 

Geralt smiles sadly in response and stutters out a breath as his hold on their hands weakens. 

“Don’t worry my angel… Somehow, we will be together again.” 

The medallion stops shaking, and Geralt's hand drops. 

Ciri falls into Geralt’s chest in heartbroken sobs. 

Into the empty otherwise silent throne room, Jaskier screams in agony. 

\--  
\--

They bury him among the ruins in Kaer Morhen. Vesemir, the last Witcher to live there, meets them on the grounds after they appeared through a portal. Both walking on the sides of Roach, with Geralt's body isunderneath a royal blanket. 

Jaskier stays with Ciri as they traveled back to Temeria, where Yennefer resides on the coast. His scroll is blank, besides the hint of a new name that he can’t quite read yet. 

He watches from the sidelines in silence as Ciri trains with Yennefer. 

They all mourn Geralt of Rivia together. Ciri vows to become stronger and braver in the eyes of an enemy. She tells Jaskier as he sings her a song to sleep that she’ll never cower again. 

He kisses her head and doesn’t reply. 

The medallion vibrates against his chest mere months after Geralt’s death. His scroll becomes hot in his hands. He pulls it from his pocket with shaking hands. 

He gasps and tears form in his vision from the complete shock, 

“Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon of Cintra” bleeds into the paper in dark black cursive lettering. 

He looks up to the sky and can’t help but thank whoever is listening. Whatever high being is responsible for his newest assignment. He pleads with fate and prays to destiny. 

“Help me keep her safe.”

He looks back down to his scroll, confusion dawning on his features as small lettering appears at the bottom of the paper. 

‘Cirilla of Cintra: Assignment. Special case of protection, Two guardians – Sun & Moon.’

“What?” Jaskier wonders. 

He looks up as he hears something hit the ground roughly, and a deep grunt of pain fills his senses. He stands and readies himself. He sees Ciri run out the doors, seems like she heard it too. 

He looks for the source of the sound, slowly walking towards where it came from. 

He eyebrows shoot up into his hairline, making Jaskier’s forehead crinkle and Ciri gasps, starts running towards the body laying on the ground face down. 

He’d recognize that head of hair anywhere. 

Dropping his hands, he joins Ciri in her run towards Geralt. He can hear her crying out his name and the large body moves a bit before it tries to push itself from the ground. As Geralt sits up, Ciri’s full body weight connects with him and they both go tumbling back into the dirt and Jaskier hears Geralt fully laugh as the girl cries in his arms. 

Jaskier stops to stare at him in awe. He knows he is crying when Geralt finally lifts his eyes and Jaskier looks into the fire filled golden orbs once again. 

A wounded sound leaves his mouth and Geralt utters, “I told you we’d be together again, my angel.” Jaskier wastes no time in surging forward and meeting them both on the ground. Making the new guardian ‘oof’ before hugging them both tightly. 

He feels the man’s medallion that hangs from his shirtless form. He pulls back to look at it, and a moon stares back at him in bright, silver glory. 

Their lips meet and the world seems to pause around them. Ciri makes a wretching noise but Jaskier ignores it in favor of the ‘hm’ that comes out of Geralt’s mouth as they continue to kiss. 

Time may wait for no one. 

But they have eternity to be with one another. 

And Julian… No, Jaskier gets his fairytale ending.


End file.
